Language

Once, there were no words.
There were only expressions
and movements
and sighs.

Arguments occurred in absolute silence
but laughter and love making
could carry for miles.

If a man wanted to confess his love
he could lift his eyes against the sun
and twist a blade of grass.

And the object of his desire
could look away and break his heart
or tilt her head and smile.

Once, there were no words
between us. We sat side by side
in awe of our breath
and our gestures and our grins.

But because we were insecure,
we created sounds for ourselves.
We spoke the first names.

The words came unexpectedly
and then they multiplied,
until the words were all we had.

Once, we closed our mouths
and watched our bodies speak
in their mother tongue. I have twisted
a million blades of grass.

[inspired by the novel The History of Love by Nicole Krauss]